My Husband Sold My Innocence Fifteen Times Novel

Fifteen times they'd stitched me back together so they could put me back on the market as a virgin. This time — the sixteenth — they dragged me in chains to an underground casino.

I'd stopped screaming a long time ago. All I wanted was to die. And then I saw Liam Blackwood — my husband, gone for three years without a trace — standing at the center of the room.

The hope hadn't even fully formed before his voice cut through it — cold, flat, final.

“I own this casino. And tonight's auction? I set the whole thing up — just for you.”

My whole body went rigid. Before I could even process what Liam had said, my brother Ethan Hayes — standing right beside him — spoke in the most casual tone imaginable.

“Every man who's ever bid on you? I found them. I brought them here.”

“I only meant to scare you at first. But Chloe — she bursts into tears the second she hears your name. So the only way you'll learn to leave her alone is if the punishment is real.”

They said it all so easily — like they were discussing dinner plans. Every word dug under my skin and hollowed me out.

For three years, every night had been a different kind of hell — men passing me between them like I was nothing, a body in a cage with no name.

Liam and Ethan — they were the only reason I'd kept breathing. And every second of this hell had been orchestrated by the two people I loved most in this world.

My shoulders shook with something halfway between a laugh and a sob. Liam watched me, jaw tight, then spoke.

“I still love you — that hasn't changed. This is the last time, understand? Just behave. Stop going after Chloe, and this all ends.”

Then came another voice — mechanical, familiar, heard by no one but me.

[The host has one final choice. Switch to a new world, or remain in this one?]

***

It had asked me this nine times before. Nine times, I'd said no.

I looked at them — the two men I'd longed for every single night. Liam had his arms wrapped around Chloe Vance, shielding her from the filth of this place.

Ethan had his phone out, finalizing plans for Chloe's birthday party — even though it was still a month away.

Neither of them asked if I was in pain. Neither of them wondered what surviving the last three years had done to me.

I'd carried a photo of the three of us for three years — clutched it until the edges had softened and yellowed. Looking at it now felt like holding proof of a lie.

I dragged my hand across my face, smearing the tears away. Then I closed my eyes and answered — and something inside me fell silent for good.

“Switch.”

The system's response came instantly, buzzing with something almost like glee.

[Understood, host — all you have to do is die!]

But it wasn't that simple. Iron chains bolted my ankles to the cage, and every bar was wrapped in layers of thick padding — specifically to keep me from killing myself.

There was no way to die in this cage. My gaze drifted to the window across the room, and I kept my voice soft.

“I just want some air.”